


living in a busy parallel world

by graveExcitement (arachnids)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Talentswap (Dangan Ronpa), Extra Treat, Gen, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-04 17:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnids/pseuds/graveExcitement
Summary: A day in the killing school life of Saihara Shuuichi, Ultimate Butler.





	living in a busy parallel world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inkyrius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkyrius/gifts).



> Title is a play on one of my favorite songs on the V3 soundtrack, [Living in Lazy Parallel World.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZP8Sw2DiP0)

Saihara laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. A suffocating weight pressed down on his chest, and it was all he could do just to breathe, even as his brain screamed _Get up_. The room didn’t have windows, so he couldn’t be sure, but he always woke at dawn, so he figured it was probably some minutes past sunrise. He wasn’t precisely sure how long he had been lying there.

He knew he had to get up, had to start breakfast, but he didn’t move. He wanted more than anything to disappear under the covers and never return.

 _Get up_.

Anything but this terrifying situation he’d been shoved into.

 _You have to get up_.

He didn’t move.

_They need you._

They…?

_The others need you._

Yes, that was right. He didn’t have a master right now, but there were fifteen Ultimates that needed his service. For a moment anxiety over that fact reared its head, but he firmly reminded himself that they _needed_ him. They needed the Ultimate Butler, and he couldn’t serve them from his room.

Slowly he sat up and dragged himself out of bed. After that, moving was easier. Just wearing his butler uniform put him at ease. Looking in the mirror, he noted with satisfaction that his reflection didn’t show scared, anxious Shuuichi, but instead the calm, ready to serve Ultimate Butler.

The cafeteria wasn’t open by the time he left the dorms, so he couldn’t start breakfast. That didn’t mean there was nothing to do, however. The warehouse appeared to store a large array of items, any of which he might need to find for one of the others. He could improve his service by knowing what was in the warehouse and where to find it.

He entered the warehouse with this reasoning in mind, only to find that someone else was already inside. Harukawa Maki stood by one of the shelves, turning to regard Saihara with a frown. He didn’t know much about her, except that she was the Ultimate Detective and he had yet to see her smile.

He bowed. “Apologies for interrupting you, Harukawa-san. Is there anything you need?”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you really intend to ‘serve’ us, then? Even in this situation?”

“It is my duty as the Ultimate Butler,” he said. He didn’t add that if he didn’t, he would curl up in a ball in his room and never come out.

“Hmm.” She examined him for a minute, and he took the opportunity to observe her in return. She had piercing red eyes, and he didn’t doubt that she’d be able to see through any lies. She wore a dark red overcoat, and he briefly wondered if the color had been chosen to hide any bloodstains she might encounter in her line of work.

It wouldn’t be necessary now, of course. He could remove any stain, blood or otherwise.

Then he thought about why he might have to remove bloodstains in this situation, and his stomach twisted. He fought to keep his expression placid.

Harukawa must have decided she was done with her examination, because she said, “I don’t require anything currently. But if you find anything at all unusual within this school, report it to me.”

Saihara bowed. “Understood.”

Harukawa turned back to the shelf she had been investigating.

He spoke up again, “If you could tell me some of your favorite meals, I can prepare them for you during our… stay here.”

“What I eat doesn’t matter to me.”

Saihara was torn — should he try and press for her true preference? But if she truly had no preference, he would only annoy her. As the Ultimate Butler, he should be able to _tell_ which was the right approach, but Harukawa was nigh-unreadable, he didn’t know —

She sighed, as if she could sense his conundrum. “Something filling for breakfast. I’ll be rather hungry by then. And later… I’m fond of maple fudge.”

Saihara couldn’t stop the smile that briefly flashed across his face. “Understood. I will see you at breakfast, Harukawa-san.”

Just then the morning announcement played, and he made his way to the kitchen.

* * *

Breakfast went well. Or, it was a chaotic clash of personalities, but the conflict didn’t reach a boiling point, and most of the group expressed appreciation towards his cooking. The Ultimate Robot, K1-Y0 (who insisted everyone call him by his ‘more human’ name, Korekiyo) waxed poetic about how much he wished he could eat a breakfast made by Saihara, which was gratifying and only a little creepy. (Saihara privately thought that whoever had programmed Korekiyo’s personality had run aground on the wrong side of the uncanny valley.)

Even the Ultimate Supreme Leader, Momota Kaito, had interrupted his own speech on how “with him at the helm, they would all have their names written in the stars” to exclaim “Damn, Saihara! This is amazing, are you sure you aren’t the Ultimate Chef?”

“Cooking is merely part of my duty as the Ultimate Butler,” Saihara had managed to reply. Then, because he was growing uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on him, he had added, “You were saying?” and Momota launched back into his speech.

Saihara even was able to get a list of favorite meals from most of the group, barring Korekiyo (for obvious reasons) and Hoshi, who had tugged at his hat and said, “Everything you’ve made so far is great, so it doesn’t matter to me.” He’d left the dining hall before Saihara could get a word in. Saihara resolved to find a way he could serve Hoshi to his satisfaction. He didn’t have any ideas yet, however. Hoshi, who apparently couldn't remember his talent, was hard to read.

Overall, he considered the meal a success. But because he was caught up in his self-evaluation of the event, he failed to notice that someone had stuck around after breakfast until they followed him into the kitchen.

“Excuse me, Saihara-kun?”

“Gah!” He whipped around, heart shooting into his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” said Akamatsu Kaede. “I didn’t mean to scare you, honestly I thought you knew I was there…”

Slowly, Saihara’s heartbeat was returning to a normal rate. “It’s fine; I should have paid more attention to my surroundings. What can I do for you, Akamatsu-san?”

Just looking at Akamatsu, he felt a bit silly for having been frightened. She was the Ultimate Child Caretaker, and one only had to exchange a few words with her to tell that she was extremely suited to her talent. She was good-natured and kind, but she had a backbone, too — “can’t let the kids walk over you,” she’d explained with a smile. The soft pastels she wore only underscored her kind personality.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could help you, Saihara-kun.”

He blinked. “Ah, that’s really not necessary…”

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to help anyways.”

“It wouldn’t be right for me to accept help when there are better things for you to be doing…”

Akamatsu looked down. “That’s just it. There’s nothing for me to do here. I just — I feel kinda bad because you’re doing whatever you can to help everyone, and it’s amazing, and I, well, my talent’s pretty much useless in this situation, you know?”

“I guess…” It was true, there were no children here, unless one counted Ouma, who by all accounts was just as much a genius as he was immature. He hadn’t thought about how that might affect Akamatsu. “Still, you could spend time with some of the others. That would be a better use of your time.”

“I just want to be helpful to someone.” She wasn’t smiling.

She wasn’t smiling, and Saihara felt a jolt of familiarity — suddenly he remembered being six years old, pleading with his uncle, “I just want to help…”

“...You could bring the dishes from the dining hall, and I could wash them,” he offered. Even that went against everything he was, but seeing her oddly blank expression, he couldn’t help but think of how miserable he would be if he couldn’t serve anyone.

“That sounds great,” Akamatsu said, the smile returning to her face as if it’d never left. She immediately turned and left for the dining hall, and Saihara couldn’t help but think he had gotten to see a side of Akamatsu she didn’t often show others.

It made him wonder, though. He knew intimately what it was like to throw yourself into service, into helping others, because you couldn’t bear not to. (Because if he didn’t, he would waste away.) He wondered what would cause a similar trait to appear in a child caretaker.

He tried to put the question out of his head when Akamatsu came back with a stack of dishes and a smile. But even as he did his best to focus on his task, on his service, the curiosity lingered.

* * *

After he finished the dishes, Saihara threw himself into his work. Ouma, the Ultimate Inventor, seemed to delight in using him as an errand boy, sending him back and forth between the warehouse and his lab fetching materials. Saihara served him with satisfaction (if not a little annoyance), and the rest as well: bringing Yumeno a notebook and pencils to sketch with, Shirogane a deck of cards for her tricks, letting Angie use him as a sparring partner. (He walked away from that one with a new set of bruises and a new appreciation for being used as an errand boy.) He even tracked down Harukawa in the library and presented her with the promised maple fudge. She didn’t smile, but he thought he saw appreciation in her eyes.

All in all, it was an exhausting day, which was perfect.

After dinner, most of the others returned to their dorm rooms, though there were exceptions. Saihara wouldn’t be surprised if Ouma locked himself in his lab all night, and Gonta seemed preoccupied with the night sky, which he supposed wasn’t too unusual from the Ultimate Astronaut. Saihara confirmed that neither of them needed anything from him, and went back into the main school building to do one last round before he went to bed.

He was halfway up the stairs to the second floor when he heard a soft, faint melody, growing louder as he continued upstairs. Once on the second floor, the source of the music was obvious: the Ultimate Pianist’s Lab, which had its door left part way open. Which meant there was only one possible culprit; it could only be the Ultimate Pianist, Toujou Kirumi.

Saihara listened, entranced, to the song Toujou poured out of the piano. It wasn’t just beautiful; it was soothing. The piano’s soft notes untangled the ever-present knot of anxiety in his gut, and he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, listening, until —

“What would you like me to play next?” asked Toujou.

Saihara jerked out of his stupor, blinking rapidly at Toujou, who regarded him calmly from her seat at the piano. He hadn't thought she’d realized he was there. “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said. He felt anxiety creeping up again; he shouldn’t have stood there so long, it wasn’t his place, his place was — “Is there anything you need, Toujou-san?” he asked, relieved to be on solid ground.

“I would like to know what you would like to hear next,” she said. Then, “You can come inside, you know.”

He stepped inside the lab, recognizing the invitation as a subtle request. Toujou sat at the grand piano that was the room’s centerpiece. She was the picture of grace and poise, a perfect counterpart to her graceful music. “You should play whatever you originally planned to play,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I welcome an audience,” she said. “I am accustomed to playing songs at my audience’s request. What would you like to hear?”

Saihara bit his lip, his stomach twisting in discomfort. He wasn’t used to being _looked at_ like what he wanted was the primary matter at hand. But there Toujou was, watching him patiently, waiting upon his request. There was a small part of him whimpering that this felt wrong, and another part of him reminding him that this was only at _Toujou’s_ request, that she had asked multiple times, and he would disappoint her if he refused to answer.

“Something peaceful,” he finally said, because that was what had drawn him into her earlier music, and because maybe if she started playing again, it could ease his discomfort. He still felt guilty for lapsing in his duties, but if she wanted an audience, he would serve.

Toujou gave him a small smile, paused for a moment, then set her fingers on the keys. Then soft music flowed from the piano, and Saihara found himself breathing easier, pulse slowing. Listening to Toujou play, his worries faded away. Even the stress of being forced into a killing game, which he’d done his best to avoid thinking about all day, ebbed. He stood there, basking in the soothing melody, marvelling at how peaceful he felt, even in a place like this.

Eventually, the song came to a close. “Thank you, Toujou-san,” Saihara said, and bowed, deeper than he normally did in his role as a butler. “I am honored.”

“It was my pleasure,” Toujou said, “to play for someone so appreciative.”

“I don’t know how someone could listen to you play and not be appreciative,” he said, startled into honesty.

“People have different tastes. Piano does not touch everyone’s hearts.”

He thought that most who believed so would change their minds if they heard Toujou play, but didn’t argue.

Toujou continued, “We should probably both return to the dorms now, before it gets much later, but I would be happy to play for you again another time.”

“That’s not necessary,” Saihara said automatically. This whole experience had been an accident; he wasn’t accustomed to being in the position of an audience, someone who was there simply to receive a performer’s hard work. Not that he was he used to the role of the performer, but rather their assistant, their helper, their butler. He belonged backstage, if anything.

Toujou studied him with a slight frown. “Saihara-kun, we’ve only known each other a few days,” she said, “but it’s clear to me how hard you're working to support us all. And before you say it’s your duty: that does not make your efforts less valuable. Far from it. If I can support you in turn, in even a minor way, like playing the piano, then that is my desire.”

 _What is with all these people trying to help me?_ Saihara wondered faintly. But he couldn’t deny that the music had indeed helped. His instincts told him to refuse, but her steely gaze made him think twice. She was clearly determined on this point, and if she had no one else to play for… He would serve. “In that case, I would be pleased to be your audience again,” he said, bowing slightly. 

She looked at him for a moment longer, then smiled. “Tomorrow night, then.” 

He inclined his head, and they walked in companionable silence back to the dorms. The hour had moved past evening and into night, and he almost couldn’t see the giant wall separating them from the world. Gonta was nowhere to be seen now, which hopefully meant he was in bed and not just scrutinizing the skies elsewhere. Ouma might still be up, but some things were beyond even his purview.

Toujou bid Saihara good night, and he returned to his room feeling oddly content. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be satisfied with having fulfilled his duties for the day, instead of anxious over not having done enough. But for the time being, at least, he felt calm, and when he slid beneath the covers, he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
